


Just Put Your Hands on Me

by severallifetimesago



Series: Episode Rewrites and Extensions: MacDennis [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Dennis is into it, Episode: s10e06 The Gang Misses the Boat, M/M, Mac's Mesh Tank Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:49:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severallifetimesago/pseuds/severallifetimesago
Summary: Mac wears a mesh tank top. Dennis seizes an opportunity.





	Just Put Your Hands on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Because Mac looked crazy good in the mesh tank top. This is my first Sunny fic, though I'm sure there will be more to come! I love writing and reading about these two idiots in love. Written to "I Wanna" by The All-American Rejects. Comments and kudos are appreciated!

And there Mac is, in a mesh tank top, _for god’s sake, for God’s sake_ , where did he find such a thing, praise be to it, for what it does.

It’s now that Dennis short circuits, rage deflating. He forgets his irritation, the mascara stained on his cheeks. Because here he is, here is Mac. And how could he think he could get by without Mac?

So he pushes the girl – _Dusty_ , how preposterous – out the door, and _thank god_ , Charlie and Dee follow, spouting something about their ridiculous poetry. Irrelevant. Dennis couldn’t give less of a shit about the rest of the gang. 

Because now it’s just the two of them, Mac and Dennis. 

He can see the outline of Mac’s pink nipples though the shirt, his sparse, dark chest hair peeking through the mesh, waiting, asking, _begging_ to be pulled, manipulated. The contrast of the two, the feminine pink and the coarse, brown hair, is – fucking hell – it’s simply breathtaking. Dennis must have been doing this wrong, heading this gang wrong if, unfettered, Mac presents himself in this way. How could he have overlooked Mac’s desire to show him _this_?

“Oh, baby boy,” Dennis croons, eyes raking over his body, head to toe, once, twice, again. He wants to slide his face along Mac’s jaw, feel the delicious scrape of his carefully maintained stubble rubbing his skin raw. He wants to rake his nails down Mac’s chest, see if, in their wake, bright red lines form, visible beneath that _goddamn glorious_ tank top. To suck a dark bruise into the hollow of his collarbone.

Mac noticeably stiffens at his words, eyes wide, lips parted. He’s silent, breaths shallow and soft. A vision.

“You look so good for me,” Dennis teases, finally, _finally_ , engaging physically, slipping his hand up, up, around Mac’s neck, and it’s as if he’s been waiting to get his hands on him for lifetimes. His whole body thrums, from his fingertips, down, down, down. He clutches his neck, nails latching onto warm skin, thumb stroking, touching, feeling. He steps closer, their bodies inches apart, his hand the only (red hot, scalding) contact between them. He’s getting so hot.

And Mac, God love him, doesn’t know what to do. He alternates between the obvious desire to slam their bodies together, to stare at Dennis’s pretty, red, anger-bitten lips, and the urge to deny this all, step back and out the door.

Until, suddenly, Dennis splays his other hand over his chest, on his left pectoral, and Mac knows he won’t be able to make this decision.

“Where did you get this, Mac?” he says, breathily, fingers ghosting along the tank top, slyly stroking his nipple, then his hand slowly finds a resting place much lower, right above his ass. Mac shivers. “Why didn’t you show me? Why would you keep this to yourself?”

And with every word, Dennis’s face moves imperceptibly closer to Mac’s, their warm breath mingling, but Dennis is still talking, always talking. Because Mac can’t get enough.

“You’re fucking ripped, baby, you look so,” Dennis starts, hand sliding lower and _gripping_ his ass, digging his fingers in the soft flesh. Mac groans. “So _strong_. So good for me.”

“Dennis, _please_ ,” Mac pants, finally able to let the words out. He pushes himself forward, seeking Dennis, pressing along the hot line of his body. His eyes are wild, darkened with arousal. “Please, please, please.”

And it’s only fitting, Dennis thinks, that Mac begs for Dennis.

So he crushes their lips together, the slick slide of Dennis’s tongue in Mac’s mouth making him boneless, pliable, easy to manipulate. And Dennis scratches his fingers though Mac’s gelled hair, content. _This_ is what he should be doing, always. Mac is his to have.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
